Iggy and the Hero
by Flavvie Phantomfag
Summary: A fight between England and France results in a kidnapping. When America gets involved, a rescue is planned. And you know what they say, "What's a rescue without British scones?" USUK


England scowled as he walked through the streets of London. He had just gotten back from a meeting of the Allied Powers, and was in a terrible mood. Those meetings were just so utterly useless! All that ever happened in them was America would propose some outrageous plan in which he was the hero, and everyone else was cannon fodder, and the rest of the meeting would be spent criticizing his idea, and bickering amongst each other.

And then of course there was France. England shuddered just at the thought of him. They had been worst enemies for nearly a thousand years, and were constantly bickering with one another on the rare occasions that they weren't fighting to the death. Yet for some reason, France seemed to think that they could engage in a romantic relationship.

England wasn't too worried though. He was a much more powerful nation, and had demonstrated countless times that he could crush the French. Still, France was really annoying, and he had on more than one occasion considered wiping him off the face of the planet. Unfortunately, America would probably not take too kindly to such an act.

"America," he spat as he voiced the name aloud. Now there was a nation he was worried about. England had had a... rough history... with America. Now, America was the most powerful nation on Earth, and would jump at any excuse to attack him. He let out a loud sigh that caused other pedestrians to glance in his direction before continuing on with their business.

England knew he should be scared of a great powerhouse like America, but all he could really feel was sadness and remorse. Even after a century and a half, he was still bitter over the Revolutionary War incident. He had raised America like son. He had cared for him, loved him, protected him, and tried to make him happy, and yet he had been rejected.

Memories raced through his head of how he had first met the young nation. He thought of the many battles he had had with France, Spain, and even the Netherlands to gain custody over him. He thought of the days they had spent together just enjoying each other's company. He thought of the many wars he had fought by America's side, beating up France, occupying America's little brother, Canada, and slaughtering Cherokee, Iroqouis, and the many other native Americans they had encountered.

His train of thought was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. England turned around to find himself face to face with a man with long blonde hair, a long blue coat, and bright red pants. His face was covered by a bio hazard mask. "France!" England exclaimed in surprise, "What're you doing here?"

"Well," France replied, taking his mask off, "I came to London to buy some of your famous English scones. Since no rats are willing to be within ten miles of those things, we're using them to rid our country of pests." He ignored England's insulted glare and continued, "I was in the area, so I decided to drop by and say hi."

"Mhmm," England replied, annoyed, "well hi. Now why don't you run along back across the English Channel and never return you git."

"Well, I would, but... er... the French ports kinda' went on strike, so I'm stuck here..."

At this, England facepalmed loudly and said, "Well good luck with that, I'm just going to go-"

"Hey! Wait up! Now that I'm here we might as well spend time with each other as neighbors. Have tea and crumpets- minus the crumpets of course -or whatever you English do."

"I'll pass," England said, unimpressed.

"Come on England, it's the neighborly thing to do. You're a gentleman, you don't want to appear rude, do you?"

With this argument, England resigned with a sigh. "Fine," he said, "I shall entertain your company for awhile, but don't expect anything."

"You won't regret it," France replied, leaving England to wonder exactly how much he'd regret it, and why he hadn't simply refused his neighbor's offer.

"Well, er... what exactly did you have in mind?" England asked after a pause, "Lunch? I know of some good restaurants-"

"Hell no!" France shouted fearfully at the mention of British food.

"You really need to stop insulting our food..." England commented.

"But it sucks! If you're gonna be so sensitive about it, you should at least try to make good food!"

"There is nothing wrong with are food!" England shouted, "And I'm not being sensitive!"

"Whatever you say Iggy..."

"GAH!" At this point, England was in a fury. "Don't call me Iggy!" He shouted, "Now get out of my sight you bloody git!"

France laughed and flipped his long, shining hair. He loved making England mad. After so many defeats at the hand of his northern neighbor, it was really all he could do. Of course, those defeats were all simply due to God slacking off a bit; in any normal circumstance, France would easily come out on top.

"I can't leave. I'm stuck here, remember?" He reminded England, continuing his ever so fun torment of the thick-eyebrowed Brit.

"Then... I'll..." England struggled to try to come up with some kind of threat.

France laughed again. "What? You gonna call _America? _It sounds like you're in need of a hero. Maybe after he rescues you, you can go all Prussia on his vital reg-" Before France could finish his insult, England's fist connected with his face and sent him stumbling back a couple steps.

"Shut up and die, git!" England shouted venomously as he advanced on France.

"What's this? An actual physical attack?" France exclaimed in mock surprise, "I thought for sure you would try to curse me, or send one of your fairy friends after me." England let out a cry of rage and charged blindly at France, striking at him haphazardly.

France simply avoided all of England's attacks, laughing all the while until England changed tactics. "Too cowardly to fight back?" The Brit asked, out of breath, "Well, that's to be expected from someone who surrendered to Germany within a year of invasion. Then again, defeat has always been your specialty, hasn't it? Remember Canada? The Hundred Year War? Waterloo? The Franco-Prussian War? Of course, what would you expect from a big brother of Italy? That fool has been more use to our side then to the Axis. Once the war's over, he ought to be eliminated-"

He stopped as France, with a horrified expression on his face, gave him a good, solid punch to the gut. Soon the two nations were engaged in a violent brawl in the middle of London, surrounded by curious pedestrians. Eventually, they both got tired out and France left the city shouting back to England, "You will regret this, Iggy! You never should have insulted Italy. I will make you pay!"

England, too out of breath to respond, simply watched him leave. He quickly returned home after that, desperate to get away from the crowds of curious onlookers. As he looked in the mirror in his house, he seemed practically unrecognizable. His clothes were covered in dirt, and had been torn so much he looked like a victim of a tornado. His face was caked with dust, and numerous scratched crossed his forehead and cheeks. His eyebrows had survived most of the onslaught, but were soaked red with blood.

It took him the better part of the afternoon to clean up, and by the time he was finished, exhaustion had a firm grip over him, and he drifted off to sleep in the middle of his living room.

* * *

When he woke up, England found himself lying on a cold, damp floor in a small, dark room that smelled of rust and mold. He immediately recognized it as some sort of prison cell, for there was a barred gate at its entrance. "Where am I?" England demanded, "Who are you? How dare you attack the great United Kingdom?"

"Bon soir, Iggy," a familiar voice said, as France stepped up from the shadows outside the cell. "I see you're finally awake."

"France?" England exclaimed in disbelief, "I mean, I know you hate me and stuff, but you really went this far? How did you even recover from the battle so quickly?"

"Well," France admitted, "I didn't do it entirely on my own."

"Wh-" England's question was answered before he asked it as a young boy in a sailor's outfit stepped forward next to France.

"Hello _brother,"_ he said, spitting on the word 'brother,' "you really should have recognized me as a country when you had the chance."

Despite the dire circumstances, England couldn't help but laugh at the boy's statement. _"Sealand?" _He exclaimed in a fit of laughter, "Really France? That's the best you could do? This is worse then the time you relied on that peasant witch girl, Joan of Arc, to fight me. Can't you ever do anything on your own?"

_"SILENCE!"_ France bellowed as he glared at England. "It does not matter how I did it, all that matters is that I have accomplished my goal and proved that I am the supreme country."

"Sure you have-" England started to argue but realized that provoking his captor was not really the wisest course of action at the time. "You know you can't keep me here. The rest of the Allies will find me, and they will rescue me."

"Of course. Relying on your precious hero America again, are you? Even if he did manage to rescue you, all he would do is boast about it constantly."

"Oh, but he won't have to rescue me..."

"You just keep telling yourself that. Your magic isn't going to save you from this one Iggy."

* * *

"America! America! America!" The short, elegantly dressed blonde girl shouted as she sprinted up to America.

"Hello? Yes I'm America. Who are you? What do you want?"

"I'm Monaco, I have important news I must share with you at once!"

"Wait a sec," America said, confused, "you said you were Monaco? Let me find where that is real quick..." He took out a map containing a large green circle labeled "America" surrounded by a red colored region labeled "Terrorists, Communists, and other crap that no one cares about."

"I can't find you anywhere on here," America confessed.

"I'm a tiny nation in southern France, it doesn't really matter though, I have important news for you. France and Sealand have kidnapped England and are holding him aboard the HM Fort Roughs."

"The what?"

"Sealand. They're holding him in Sealand."

"Well that's not good. As the great hero, I must go rescue him!"

"Don't you think you should get the other Allies to help you?"

"No. Great heroes like me perform our greatest missions alone."

"Okay, well it's your funeral. Bye!" With that, Monaco left, and flew back to her country.

* * *

England chuckled to himself as he dug through the metal floor of his cell and snuck to the helicopter pad. No jail could hold England for long; he could dig through anything. He stole Sealand's only helicopter without anyone noticing, and by the time they had the artillery gun manned, England was far from sight.

* * *

America stood in the back of the plane and strapped his parachute on as they neared the Principality of Sealand. He let out his usual obnoxious laugh. _Another mission for the great hero, _he thought, _I can't wait to see the look on England's face as I beat up France and rescue him. I'll never let him forget this. _Then, the plane arrived over its destination, and he jumped out, floating to the ground with his parachute.

"The hero has arrived!" He shouted on impact with the ground. As he discarded his parachute and looked around, he found the tiny country strangely deserted. _They probably just fled as soon as they saw me, _he reasoned. _Well, I might as well just take a look around- _

Suddenly he noticed an odd sight in one corner of the sea fort. Sitting there on the deck was a gigantic crate of ice cream. "Ice cream!" He shouted as he sprinted at full speed towards the crate, never once asking himself why there was a giant crate of ice cream in the middle of Sealand. Just as he was only a couple meters (which are like feet, which are like yards, but shorter) away from his tasty treat, the floor collapsed beneath him and he fell into a deep pit.

* * *

As soon as England had made it home, he gathered up his army and prepared to invade France. "That fool will pay for his treachery!" He declared, "He never should have turned against the mighty United Kingdom!"

Suddenly he was interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing. "Hello?" He said, picking it up.

"Hello England!" America said loudly through the other end, "I've got some bad news. Turns out, when France was conquered by Germany, he set up a collaborating government in southern France, called 'Vichy France.' So, he's a bad guy now."

"Yeah I know," England replied, "he just tried to kidnap me with the help of Sealand, but I escaped. They should have known better than to put _me_ in a prison cell."

"Yeah, so... er... well I heard about your run in with France, and being a hero, I came to rescue you. Unfortunately, France had like this huge army of super powerful... er... robots? Yeah, let's say robots. Anyway, so I like fought them, and I killed them all, but then I was super tired so..."

"You fell into some trap, didn't you?" England realized.

"Well... yeah, but it was an ingenious trap! Anyone would have fallen for it!"

"Let me guess, hamburgers?"

"Ice cream." America said weakly.

"Don't worry about it, I'll come and rescue you."

"Thanks bro! I'm somewhere in Germany with a bunch of the Axis. Oh, and please don't tell anyone else about this," he pleaded.

"I will make no such promises," was the reply. As he put down the phone, England smiled at this turn of events. Now he got to be the hero for a change. He would beat the Axis easily with his great British fighting skill, and rescue America no problem. He tried to imagine the nation's reaction at his rescue. Surely he would be in awe of how skillful and impressive he was.

He quickly stopped his thoughts and tried to come up with some kind of plan. He really didn't know very much about the place America was being held in, so he had no idea what specific obstacles or challenges he might face. _I guess I'll just need to come up with some kind of all purpose plan..._ he thought. After sitting and thinking for about an hour, he finally came up with a plan.

* * *

Italy and Sealand patrolled excitedly along the perimeter of the prison. They had just captured America, the most powerful nation in the world! Now the war would surely turn in their favor. Germany's plan had been pure genius: capture England, and when America comes to rescue him capture him too. Sure, England had escaped, but they didn't have anything to fear from an insane former pirate who saw constant visions of mythical creatures.

Being very inexperienced in the ways of war, Italy and Sealand spent most of their time making idle chatter with each other, rather than actually paying attention to their surroundings, so neither of them noticed the blonde haired, thick eyebrowed nation walk right past them and stroll into the prison. England laughed as he shut the prison door behind him. Those two foolish nations would never amount to anything. Now that he was inside, all he had to do was avoid being caught by any stronger nations.

He managed to make it to the weapon storage house without incident. The other Axis powers were probably too busy interrogating America to pay any attention to the rest of the building, he reasoned. This would make his work much easier. He lit a match, and ignited a long fuse connected with the barrels of gunpowder. Then, he ran.

When the Axis nations heard the explosion and realized that the building was on fire, they immediately forgot about America and rushed out of the building as fast as they could. Once they were all outside, Germany facepalmed and commented, "We left America in the building! Sealand, run back in and get him!"

Just as Sealand was about to charge into the burning prison, Japan asked with a confused look on his face, "Sealand? Wait a second, this is the 1940s, you didn't become a country until the 1960s..."

"Crap! You're right," Sealand realized. After standing there awkwardly for a moment he continued, "Well, if I'm not alive yet, then bye I guess..." With that the young boy in the sailor's outfit faded into nothingness, leaving behind the stunned Axis nations to stare at where he used to be.

"Japan!" Germany growled ferociously, "You just got our extra to disappear off the face of the planet! Who are we going to send to get America now?" Japan immediately looked at Italy, but France and Germany objected with great hostility.

"It's too late," said a voice from behind them. They wheeled around to see England and America walking out of the burning building. Before they could say anything, England took out a radio and spoke into it, "Now."

Suddenly the skies were filled with British bomber planes. As everyone prepared to get blown to bits, hundreds of scones were dropped from the planes and descended on top of them. One by one, the Axis nations fell unconscious as scones fell into their mouths, while America and England simply enjoyed the view.

"That was quite a rescue," America commented, turning to England. "You make a descent hero."

"I learned form the best," England replied. "Next time you try to rescue someone, you might want to be a little more careful not to get sidetracked though..."

"Dully noted. You know, we should go on some adventures together some time. Spend more time together, like we used to. After all, there's no one I'd rather have as a sidekick than good old Iggy."

England stood there with a sheepish look on his face, unsure of what to say. He had certainly not been expecting as positive a reaction as this. He opened his mouth to comment, then closed it as his mood soured. "I thought you worked alone. If I remember right, you're a huge proponent of independence, and you'd never even dream of working with me."

America laughed aloud. "Still bitter about the Revolutionary War, are you? Look, that was different. I was no longer a child, but you were still treating me like one. I got tired of it. I was ready to strike out on my own, make my own decisions, be my own master. It was nothing personal, I just needed to grow up."

"You completely rejected me and never tried to make it up!" England exclaimed, "I had raised you, protected you, given you gifts, taught you how to live. I was like a father to you!"

America let out a nervous sigh of resignation. "I should have explained this to you long ago, but I was too much of a coward. You see England, I love you," he admitted, "but not just as a father." He waited for his words to sink in before continuing, "I knew that until I had independence, you would only ever view me as a son or little brother, so in desperation, I rebelled. I hoped that now we're on equal ground, we could have a proper relationship.

"Basically, I rebelled so I could do this." He leaned forward, grabbed England, and engaged him in a kiss. England raised his immense eyebrows in surprise, then closed his eyes and savoured the moment. Great joy flooded through both of them as they lost themselves in each other's lips. Neither of them had been expecting this moment to come, but they knew in their hearts that there would be many more like it.

After at long last the kiss ended, the two nations simply stood by each other in silence and watched the scones rain from the bombers above. "We better not mention this to any of the other nations," England commented sheepishly.

"Agreed."

_**Fin**_


End file.
